


Steve?

by anotherbuskitten



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbuskitten/pseuds/anotherbuskitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being rescued, Bucky tries to make sense of his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve?

I’d been standing by him for forever. From when he was skinny and ill as all fuck to this new bigger version.

I’d pulled him out of all manner of scrapes and I didn’t fucking care. That just was.

_> I sound bitter, don’t I? I’m not, not really. I’m just tired and I want my best friend back<_

I’m not angry that he’s bigger than me and I’m not angry that he’s happy. Of course I’m not. Like I said; he’s my best friend. I’m happy for him.

I’m angry at the people who suddenly get how great a guy he is, now that he’s big and strong and a proper hero. I’m angry at the people who wouldn’t have looked twice at him before, unless they were complaining about how many mouths there were to feed these days.

_> I’m angry at Steve for not understanding<_

The Steve Rogers I remember was small and skinny and everyone ‘round our way loved him. I guess they still do now, but he doesn’t need their help anymore. Just like he doesn’t need mine.

He had loads of people falling over themselves to help now. He could have everyone and anyone. So why in God’s name would he pick a bunch of scarred, half-dead soldiers who barely remembered how to hold a gun?

I remember thinking that when I introduced him to the commandos.

Except even big it was still Steve, right? So he’d take us, even if he wanted someone better.

_> That was the problem really. I wasn’t sure it was Steve. I wasn’t even sure that my Steve had ever actually existed. By this point I had memories in my head that I knew weren’t mine and others that could never have happened in real life._

_So why should this be any different? How could someone magically turn from tiny and coated in illnesses to as healthy a specimen as you could ever see?_

_Maybe my Steve had never existed. Maybe he’d always been this big and I’d lost those memories. Or, maybe Steve Rogers had never existed at all and this was just some random hero-type who wanted to make sure no one got left behind <_

I didn’t want a hero. I wanted Steven G. Rogers, who I knew inside and out, better than anyone on this earth.

I wanted to go home.

_> Except Steve was home. He had been since dad died. But if Steve was here that meant that war was home now<_

That was another reason this couldn’t be Steve.

Steve was at home, safe in Brooklyn, where I’d left him. He had to be, otherwise why the hell was I stuck to table and being at pricked with needles?

What was I doing here if Steve didn’t need me? What was I fighting for now?


End file.
